


12 Hours

by crockermaid



Series: Bodyguard [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alpha Bro - Freeform, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Bro's name is Derrick, First work - Freeform, Guardiancest, M/M, alpha dave's name is d, bro strider - Freeform, bro's not a strider but i can't think of a last name, but not incest, smoking [minor]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 13:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7535032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crockermaid/pseuds/crockermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>D Strider had a plan, four things on a list. One thing doesn't happen, and twelve hours later everything's different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	12 Hours

In all honesty, everything that has happened in the last 12 hours was not part of the plan.  
  
The plan was to finish the meeting, go home after dropping the bodyguard off, and sleep.  
  
3/4 of those things did, in fact happen. But the one that didn’t, the small one percent, changed everything. Surprisingly, the one small change of plans was the altering of the future. More specifically? A less lonely one.  
  
Why D Strider needed a bodyguard was obvious to everyone. The director, scriptwriter, character designer was under a lot of bullshit from practically every direction. Not only that, but almost everyone who practically glanced at a magazine or tabloid while waiting to pay for groceries at whatever big stop shop knew that this man was anxiety prone and had a record of leaving meetings midway through them. He was a famed but frustrated icon of modern media, everything he touched turned to fool’s gold. Of course he needed someone to moderate him.  
  
Finding a taker was easy, but finding someone who would stay? Not so much. They swapped out as often as a fashion star would change clothes. D happily would accept them, but soon find himself a nervous wreck about how they felt about him. He would be all smiles during work hours, calm and collected, but after he would explain the best he could that he was going to try someone else. It was as draining as a breakup, a cycle of once a month. All of them understood, apparently. There wasn’t any uproar, D paid them well, paid them fairly, and let the paycheck slowly trickle to zero as weeks went by. He wasn’t going to cut them off, that was the deal with his producers.  
  
No one expects him to stay with one guard that long. Fangirls and media alike assume he’s like this behind doors with partners, hush-hush so no one knows. This is just another bold print lie on a black magazine cover. The director just said he never had crushes, and it was left to that. People conspired, of course, the main pairing being D and the author Rosalyn Lalonde, or Rosie, as D would call her in conversations. Little did the rabid shippers know that they were, in fact, cousins. Little did they know that Rosie’s mother adopted D when he was 14, making them essentially siblings.  
  
After everything, no one expected the one to show up and change everything was the towering 6’5 man only two years older than D. The director’s main was sick, according to gossip. He was sick and D had a party to attend to. Rosie refused that he go to the celebration alone, hiring an alternative. Derrick.  
  
Not many know what happened that night but D had decided to switch over once again, not because he didn’t like the old guard, but that he felt more comfortable with the new.  
  
The two of them were not to be separated after. D was always the affectionate type, so when photos were taken, no one was taken aback by them holding hands. It was as if they were scared of losing each other. In every new photo snapped of the two of them, D was glowing, smiling, and often when the camera clicked without Derrick knowing, the older was smiling too. According to speculations, they were close friends.  
  
Twelve hours ago this was 100% true. But as each hour ticked by, each minute, things shifted. It was the one out of four that went against the plan. Things happen rather quickly in the movie business.  
  
The start was cliché, if anything. Hours one through four were meetings after meetups after planning periods. They were all the same thing, despite the thesaurus being pulled out to name them. D, in a room of people, shooting off ideas to either be loved or ignored. Today it was mostly being ignored, to the Strider’s frustration.  
  
Hour five was spent grabbing dinner with his bodyguard. They had gotten take out, a rare time the younger ate it. The two of them were shooting it off in an empty meeting room, laughing, smiling. D was helping himself to mongolian beef and who the hell knew what Derrick was eating besides the big man himself. They were enjoying each other’s company, and that’s what mattered.  
  
Hour six was the calm between when D needed to leave and when they had finished dinner. The meeting room was theirs for the rest of the night if needed. D would climb up to sit cross legged on the table, telling stories of film school and the bullshit poured out by fans. Derrick would climb on and show off some videos on his phone, the two of them in a quiet awe while watching whatever the older had pulled up. Halfway into that hour, the younger would push himself off the table and pull the strings on yellowing blinds to show off an almost stormy sky. He casually made his way to the lightswitch as well, flicking it off so there was only natural light. Back on the table next to Derrick, they would spend the rest of hour six laughing to some irrelevant video.  
  
Hour seven was when D was texting Ms. Lalonde. Derrick was calling a cab, and Rosie wanted an update on how her cousin’s day was. Two hands were intertwined as the mostly empty hallway was traveled, thunder faintly rumbling outside. The younger’s spilling his gut out to the Lalonde as they walk, a quirked eyebrow behind shades that’s the only comment from Derrick. The phone buzzes, a response to the confessions, a start of a plan that only works to make D blush.  
  
Seven and a half hours in, they get outside to the rain hitting the canopy and the world around them grey. Tucking his phone away, D’s led to a bus stop to take shelter from the rain. His grip is tight on the older’s as they sit down and continue their chat. Derrick’s suspicious of the conversation, of the flush covering D’s freckles. The director shrugs it off, stretching and standing up to pull his bodyguard up with him. The duo sway in place, the only sound being the rain gently on the plastic cover. It seems to almost be a crime to interrupt nature’s soundtrack. The larger hand shakes the smaller off, trailing around to carefully wrap around the director’s waist. It’s nothing new, just pulling him close to listen.  
  
Five minutes later, D’s phone vibrates with a plan in a grey speech bubble. He shoves the phone away, trying to shake out what Rosie had decided as the perfect, cliché plan. His heart is in his throat, he’s shifting. Derrick meant so much to him, it was insane. The older had helped him through countless situations, even if his methods were unusual.The last thing D wanted could happen if he did the first thing he wanted. It was a clusterfuck of confusion, but if he didn’t do it in this cliché background then what other chance would he have?  
  
8 hours in, on the dot, lips met. Bodies turned to face each other and in the whirlwind of seconds, the kiss lasted longer than D expected it to. His hands had rested on Derrick’s chest, ready to push him away in embrassement but it wasn’t needed. In the couple seconds that they kissed, Derrick was kissing back. The director pulled away, ruby eyes wide in shock behind translucent, dark aviators. Everything about this was so overdone, no wonder Rosie suggested it. It was ironic, little to no build up or context, but he kissed back.  
  
The younger leaned in for another and another kiss, feeling his body being pressed gently against a post. Derrick’s touch is always careful, always soft. Their kisses aren’t lust filled or needy, instead tender. The only thing there is to focus on is either the rain above, the sound of lips on lips or the rhythmic press and release of rough fingers on the director’s sides. It’s a new rush to him, it’s his first kiss. His second, his third, his fourth, his fifth.  
  
Eight and a half hours in, there was a honk to interrupt them. Derrick pulled away, adjusting his own shades with a small smile. The two of them crawled into the cab, silent for a minute as they’re holding hands. The driver never comments on it, driving to Derrick’s apartment. It’s 11pm, dark not only due to the time but due to the rain outside. The larger hand is still holding onto the small frame D possessed. It’s a bit of a drive, the only noise being rain and windshield wipers.  
  
Fifteen minutes left in the drive and the two of them are kissing quietly again. Twisting in the seat belts is difficult, but it’s something that neither them had experienced in a while. The kisses are quick, soft, careful. The lighting around them is the bold orange of streetlights, whites and reds from other cars, but besides that it’s pitch black. However, they’re always able to find each other’s lips. If not the lips, it’s the corners of them or cheeks.  
  
It had been nine hours and Derrick got out of the car and D shut his eyes. This was part of the plan, he was going to go home alone. The he heard the door adjacent from him shut. Then he felt a hand curl up on his. This was the one part that had changed. This was the 1/4th that changed everything. They’re silent the rest of the ride, squeezing hand. D’s hotel was a while away, half an hour that would’ve been alone.  
  
Ten hours and everything had gone in a blur. Derrick was taking a quick shower, D was on the porch smoking a cig. He enjoyed the smell of rain outside mixed with the smoke, enjoyed the silence. The feeling of subtle hands on his waist, heat on his back, chin on his shoulder and a peck on his cheek. It’s not a shock, there’s no one else who would be around. Stubbing out the cig, D breathed out the smoke and leaned up to place a kiss on Derrick’s cheek. It was friendly, affectionate, as it always was. They hadn’t exchanged a word all evening.  
  
“C’mon to bed.”  
  
Ten hours and ten minutes, a soft, honey dripping voice spoke. The bodyguard had an accent, a deeper and thicker one than the director. His voice was soothing to the ear, subtle and calm. His fingers pressed into D’s sides and pulled back, as if trying to lead him to the bed feet away.  
  
Ten hours and fifteen minutes. Nodding, D put the stub into the ash tray. He turned to Derrick and placed another kiss before climbing into bed. He had changed right before he had his last cig of the night, the second of the day. It had been stressful due to the three held. Under the covers, he watched as Derrick moved to the other side of the bed and felt the mattress shift due to the new weight.  
  
Arms wrapped around the younger and he smiled softly. Legs tangled with his own and he felt like glowing. A couple kisses placed on his neck, he felt like he fit in those arms and legs like a puzzle piece. Maybe they were being surprisingly affectionate for just starting to be a couple, but that was always how the two of them were. D had grown up starved of this, hands on his body from someone he trusted instantly made him feel safe. That was why he dropped bodyguards, they weren’t up for that. Derrick was, in his own discreet way.  
  
Eleven hours and the couple was fast asleep with each other held close.  
  
The next nine were the happiest sleep they had ever had.  
  
Twelve hours later D was glad he only got 3/4 things done as planned.

**Author's Note:**

> yo so this is my first work and it's a bit over 2,000 words, i hope ya enjoyed it


End file.
